


Parent Trapping and Your Unlucky Childhood Friend: A Short Guide to Fucking Things Up Spectacularly

by orphan_account



Category: Death Note
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Mello is a drama queen, Misa knows more than she lets on, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which L and Light are two friends who can't get their shit together. Prompted by a friend, who wanted Mello and Near trying to set L and Light up, but falling in love in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _you can hear it in the silence_   
>  _you can feel it on the way home_   
>  _you can see it with the lights out_   
>  _you are in love_

"This is ridiculous, Nate, what the hell makes you think this is gonna work?" He mumbles, adjusting himself. There's a stick poking his ass and he feels like an idiot with this toy walkie-talkie in his hand. Why they couldn't just use cell phones...

"Please, Mello, stick with the program." His voice almost sounds hoarse over the shitty speaker.

He can just imagine that big-headed white-haired twit sitting comfortably in his classroom, probably coloring in his notebook instead of actually doing the work himself. Mello grits his teeth. "Fine.  _Near_. I repeat: what the hell makes you think this is gonna work?" Mello pulls small branches aside and watches his targets. They're looking at each other, confused. They must have gotten the notes, then.

Mello crouches down on all fours, dragging himself closer to the edge, closer to the two upperclassmen. He knows what Near is going to say before he even says it. "I'll tell you later, right now just focus."

Aggravating. Like always. "Are you close enough to hear them talking?"

"Yes," Mello grinds out. "They're kinda quiet though, so keep your mouth shut." He waits, hoping Near will bite back, is kind of disappointed when he doesn't.

"Do you have any idea who yours is from?" Light asks. L hands the small slip of paper over to his friend, sticking his now free hand back in his pocket. His voice is so quiet and mouth barely opened when he replies that Mello misses it. He thinks the general gist is that he has his suspicions. Mello and Near were both expecting this - not a lot gets past L.

Light gives him a suspicious look, but doesn't say anything. Mello gets the uncomfortable impression that they're communicating without talking, through use of facial expressions or something similarly sappy.

Which is why, of course, he and Near came up with this plan in the first place. Because despite all appearances, he  _did_  help Near come up with the plan, even though he knew in the end that he wasn't going to wind up getting any of the credit. Which, he supposed, meant that if things went poorly he wouldn't get any of the blame either. Normally things just didn't go wrong for Near (or well for Mello, he was always getting caught), but they've never challenged their mentor before.

Light's eyes falter and for a minute, Mello swears that the older boy is looking straight at him. He ducks back behind the bushes, falling over his own feet uncomfortably and missing the rest of the conversation. He turns the walkie-talkie off quickly, because if Light has seen him then there's no way he either won't come over himself, or won't send L over. And this, this is not the kind of thing he wants to have to explain to either of them.

He barely manages to shove the stupid toy back into his bag before he hears the monotone voice speaking up from behind him. "Hello, Mihael." He sounds almost bored, but Mello swallows to hide his anxiety. He wouldn't have come over if he wasn't at least a little bit curious. "What are you doing behind the bushes?"

Mello turns back around, looking up into L's eyes, trying to think of an adequate excuse his friend would actually buy.  _Don't fuck this up_. "You know, just -" His hand brushes against something else in the bag, and he gets an idea. 

Improv. This is something he can do that Near can't, or couldn't last time he checked. "Ambushing Matt," he answers. He sees a flash of pink and black stripes from a hole in the bushes and stands up, water gun aimed at his friend's head. He winces as he watches the cigarette drop from Matt's mouth; Near flushed two yesterday and half a pack got ruined in the rain this morning. He's going to make Mello pay for that.

"Dude!" Matt snaps, taking the sunglasses from his eyes and wiping them down. "What the hell?!"

L turns back to him, curiosity alleviated.  _He thinks it's just a game. Good. For once, my insignificance in life is paying off_. "I suggest you run," L murmurs, and turns around to shuffle off. "I'm meeting up with someone later on," he calls, not bothering to look back at Mello. "Please let Watari know."

Mello nods, even though L isn't looking his way anymore. He feels Matt's heavy footsteps fall in line next to him, and the disgruntled voice says, "This better be some dope scheme you and Nate the mate have come up with."

"Don't call him that," Mello says, cutting Matt off. He hates this bizarre lingo phase Matt is going through, and out of spite he smirks and adds, " _Mail_ ," to the end of his sentence.

Matt winces."Yeesh, buddy, fine." He pauses, and watches L slouching slowly off like an actor leaving the stage. He's frowning slightly. "It is a plan though, right?" Mello turns to look at him, but doesn't actually reply. "That's what the letter you had me write was for, right?" Mello crosses his arms, shrugs, nods. "You think it'll work?" he asks.

Mello hums and reaches for his bag. And he hates the use of cliches almost as much as he hates Matt's sudden penchant for ridiculous slang and rhyming cockney bullshit, but the idiom rings true. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

When Light gets home, he asks his mother and sister to give him at least five minutes of privacy. His mom looks concerned, but only Sayu makes a comment. "You look like you killed your best friend, Light."

He frowns. "The phrase is, 'you look like you lost your best friend,' not killed your best friend."

"Well, yeah, I know," Sayu replies. "But you look pretty pissed. Ryuzaki didn't break your cell phone again or something, did he?"

"Sayu! Language!" their mother scolds.

Both Light and Sayu ignore her. "Please, Sayu, he just goes by L. He doesn't like his first name. And no, he didn't break anything this time." Light turns on heel and heads toward the stairs. "I just need to think something through. Everything's fine, everyone's alright, don't worry. I'll be ready in time to help you with your homework, Sayu." He pauses on the stairs, one hand on the railing. He makes a quick decision, and turns around so they can hear him say, "I have a date tonight, though, so I might be home late." 

"What?!" Sayu shrieks, while their mother cheers. "With who? Ryuzaki?"

Light feels his face flush bright red at the suggestion. "What? No! You don't know them!" he snaps. "They're just - they're someone from school, okay? Now leave me alone," he grumbles, stomping up the rest of the way.

He can still hear Sayu throwing questions up his way as their mother pulls her away, trying to get her to help with dinner. He doesn't think she'll be following him up to his room, but he locks the door anyway, just to be on the safe side. Once he's secure in his room he lets the backpack slip from his shoulders to the floor, kneeling to unzip and go through it, to read the note again.

It isn't that the thought has never crossed his mind, that it could be his friend. But it doesn't seem likely - L isn't one for practical jokes and if he wants to hang out, he'll just ask. And it definitely wouldn't be, you know, a date, because L just doesn't do that. As far as Light can tell, he isn't interested in other people like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that!

He puts his hand on his forehead and shakes his head. Why is he even entertaining that ridiculous notion? He'd recognize his friend's chicken scratch handwriting anywhere. He tries concentrating on the form of the writing, the style, trying to think of who he knew that it would actually match. Misa? No, he's told her that she is not and never will be his type - in kinder words than that, and despite her usual silly and oblivious persona, she seemed to catch his drift. Mikami, then? He does have pretty penmanship...

He swallows, looking away from the note, trying to picture Mikami Teru writing it. He has been getting the distinct impression that Mikami likes him as more than a classmate, but he's never really paid him much attention.

But the bigger question is, who is L's secret admirer? With very few, very personal exceptions he can't think of anyone who would find his friend romantically appealing. Perhaps Misa has moved onto L, then? He wishes he'd spent more time looking at L's letter, memorizing it so he can compare it now to past notes and letters Misa had given to him. Maybe he can text L to send him a picture of his letter -

No, no, he's thinking way too hard into this, and getting obsessed with a date that isn't even his. There's no reason for him to get so worked up. So what if his friend is entertaining the notion of this date, and possibly going to break someone's heart? It's unethical and a little cruel, sure, but maybe that's just what they deserve for getting too emotionally involved. Maybe that's what he deserves for letting himself get too close, for god's sake he knows L better than (almost) anyone else, getting his hopes up was - is - just ridiculous.

_But what if he likes it? What if he meets this person and decides they're not trivial and he enjoys their company and he wants to spend all his time with them instead of me?_

Light bites his tongue, even though he hasn't said anything out loud. He keeps telling himself it's impossible, but he can hear L's voice in the back of his head accusing him of being cocky. L's accused him of that in real life, but never in this context, because Light would rather die than have this context ever leave the confines of his mind.  _Logically, it's not likely_ , he tells himself. Because it isn't; L doesn't have very many friends and even he and Light didn't get along when they first met. Or rather, Light didn't like him very much; L seemed amused, and welcomed their rivalry with the same sort of...affection, if that was even the right word, that he'd later welcomed their friendship with.

It's a strange friendship, but it's probably the only real friendship Light has ever had. But it's making him question himself more than he'd like, and he's uncomfortable. And even if it makes him the worst friend in the world, he can't help wishing that the night doesn't go well for L.

* * *

About an hour before L is meant to meet his date, his phone chirps with further instructions. He's sure that if he really wants to, he can sit down and figure out who sent the text. But this has become like a game now. If he tries to figure out who sent the message before the confrontation, that would be like cheating. He taps the fingers of his free hand on his knee and stands from the bench. He hadn't gone home, because he hadn't wanted to explain the situation to anyone else - and Watari, if nobody else, would want to discuss it. 

The only person L has even thought about discussing it with is Light, but he's gotten the distinct impression that Light does not want to talk about it. L can only assume that Light is too preoccupied with his own note to think about much else, but oddly he did not seem happy about it. And L is trying not to focus on that or hold onto that, because it's an unhealthy behavior for a friend to have.

He frowns at the ground, and closes the cell phone in his hand. He sticks it back in his pocket, and shuffles off toward the restaurant where he is supposed to meet his date.

He's fairly certain this isn't some sort of bizarre trick on Light's part. If Light can turn down Misa without beating her heart to a bloody pulp, then he's not going to fake a secret admirer note in an attempt to prank a friend. Not that the handwriting matches Light's - it's not neat enough, smudges on the page indicating that the writer had been left-handed and applying far too much pressure on his (or her, he supposes, though he figures that isn't likely) pen. 

He stops for a minute and looks at his reflection in a store window. He can almost hear Light berating him for not at least combing his hair, but he's not interested in whoever this is (he knows that much for a fact) and he has no intention of giving someone the wrong impression. And if this person, whoever they are, really intends to woo him, they'll have to let go of any biases they might have or any ties to social norms they might be married to, because L isn't about to change himself to make anyone else comfortable.

He's glad that his would-be date has chosen a table in the back. He double-checks to make sure no one's around before slipping his shoes off and sliding his knees to his chest in the small, uncomfortable seat. His hand reaches idly for the sugar bowl, frowning and grimacing when he meets granulated sugar instead of cubes. But there are no waiters around, as of yet; he'll just have to be patient, for now, but it's getting difficult to do.

L takes his cell phone from his pocket and balances it on his knees, fingers tapping away at his sides again. Part of him wants to call or text Light, to see how he's doing, if he's gotten to his meeting place yet, if his suspicions have been confirmed. Not that he's told Light what his suspicions are, mostly because he hopes they're wrong. Light hasn't seemed quite himself recently and L has no intention of ruining something for him that could be good, even if he personally wants things to go poorly. He doesn't pretend to be a good person, but even this feels like a new low. 

L sticks his thumb between his lips and tries not to think about the alternate possibilities - like how Light's date could be Mikami, who is relatively smart and reasonably attractive and combs his hair and wears shoes, and how that would probably be a perfect choice for Light if L was at all interested in matchmaking or romance at all.

But he isn't, and it bothers him to no end that this bothers him to no end. He could care less about his own date, but his mind is preoccupied with his friend's. And his stomach hurts, presenting him with the perfect excuse to leave as soon as whoever he's supposedly waiting for arrives.

He checks the time on his phone, is startled to see that his "date" is half an hour late. He sighs, bored, and looks around the room for something else to focus on. And his heart stops when he sees Light, cheek on his hand, sitting alone at a table, mind obviously elsewhere.

He doesn't really know what to say when he spots Light. He wants desperately to wave or go over there and speak to his friend, but that would just be awkward. He's heard this term before, "third wheel," and it sounds like a terrible occupation. This would fall under  _ruining things for his friend_ , and he's only here to hope things mess themselves up, not actually cause trouble himself. All the same, he finds he can't stop staring at the way the candles highlight the different colors of his hair, cast shadows on his face that make him look like some sort of classic painting come to life.

The pain in his stomach gets worse and he finally manages to tear his eyes away, eyes darting back to his phone. How long should he wait before it's polite for him to leave?

"L? What are you doing here?" He's startled - he didn't even hear Light approaching him, but now he's standing next to where L is sitting and looking down at him, concentrated frown on his face. "Oh, wait, is this where your date wanted to meet you? I guess it is a pretty popular place."

"Yes, I suppose," he mumbles, letting his thumb outline his lips. He can't look back up at Light, and turns back to his phone. "But it appears they won't be coming, so I may as well go home."

"No!" Light says, a little too emphatically. "I mean, my date didn't come either." 

L feels angry, on Light's behalf. So his suspicions were correct after all. "I'm sorry to hear that, Light."

His friend shrugs and moves to the other end of the small, circular table. "It's okay, I wasn't really sure what to think or what to say anyway." Light isn't quite looking at him, but L doesn't notice, too busy pretending to be engrossed in his phone. "But we're already here, we may as well enjoy each other's company."

L nods in agreement, and starts biting on the skin of his thumb.

* * *

The place - the home - where he lives with Watari and the others is strange. It's not quite an orphanage, not quite a family home. It's like a sort of boarding school, except that L really does not know his parents and neither Nate nor Mihael talk about theirs. He rarely sees Mail, so he's not sure what he talks about. As far as most people at school are concerned, they are brothers, and it seems close enough to the truth. L and Nate share similar behaviors, and Mihael appears to look up to him as a mentor. 

And, every once in a while, they do something childish and irresponsible like this. "Hey L, how'd your meeting go?"

L narrows his eyes at his young blonde friend. "It was supposed to be a date, but I suppose you know that already. You were the one who forged the notes, after all." He watches as the color drains from Mihael's face. It would be amusing if he wasn't so annoyed. "That was quite rude, you know. I hate to let you down but it had no effect on me and never would have; but I cannot promise the same thing of Light. And if you have hurt my friend, there will be consequences."

Mello swallows. He tries to speak. "L -"

"It was cruel, Mihael," he says. And now that he's getting used the the nickname, every use of his given name feels like a slap to Mello. "And there was no reason for it. Please do not speak to me for the rest of the night."

Mello watches L retreat to his room and waits an extra few minutes before tiptoeing his way to Near's. 

As soon as he reaches the door, his classmate - roommate - greats him. "Hello, Mello. How did things go?"

"Shitty, that's how," Mello snaps. "It fucking failed, Nate."

"Near."

"Near! Fuck. Whatever. What are we supposed to do now?" Mello groans and collapses onto Near's unused bed, his hands over his head. Part of him wants to be bitter and point out that he was the one blamed for their scheme gone awry, but he was fairly certain the sarcasm would be wasted on his, for lack of a better term, friend. 

"It was always my plan to have them meet at what would appear to be an accident," Near intones, sliding another piece of his large, white puzzle into place. "Having them meet each other would have been hokey and cliche, not to mention see-through. They'd quickly confirm that neither of them would have done such a thing and instead of spending the evening together, they would have become angry and sought to confront us."

Mello huffs. "So we got them to have dinner together. Big deal. They eat together all the time."

"Eating together in the cafeteria is a far cry from eating together as a date," Near says. Mello wonders how Near even knows things like that - he's not exactly Mr. Experience. "It's a step forward, although I admit it did not exactly go according to plan."

Mello groans. He knows before Near even asks if he'd be willing to help that he's going to agree. It doesn't matter that they sometimes (no, frequently) don't get along, that Mello is too hot-headed and Near too cocky. He begrudgingly has Near's back regardless. "Alright, Einstein. What do you suggest?"

"Well, I think part of the problem is this," he twirls a piece of the puzzle in the air as he thinks. "I'm not sure about Light, but L doesn't seem to realize his own feelings. Like I said, I'm not sure, but I think it's entirely plausible that L is in denial, and Light is simply ignoring his own feelings." He fits it into place, and the puzzle is complete. He gives it a soft, happy expression that makes Mello's chest do weird things. "What do you think?"

"I think - I think it's a little ridiculous," he says. "Not impossible, but amazing that L could possibly not know that he's in love. I mean, all he does is mope around the house and text Light. Does he think that's normal?"

Near gives him a withering look. "For L, it is."

* * *

When Light returns home, he's unsurprised to find his sister and mother waiting for him. "Did you have a good time, Light?" his mother asks, and he nods. 

"It went better than I could have expected, really," he admits, because it's true. He was dreading the idea of meeting Mikami or anybody else, really, only to have to find a polite way to turn them down. Mikami in particular might have had a fit, and he didn't want his reputation or image to take a hit because he'd turned down one person too many. In short, he might have found himself caving in and accepting affection just to avoid a fallout.

And perhaps that would be better. He isn't dating anybody else, and it does't make much sense for him not to be looking. Except that he doesn't want to use someone else, and he only "has feelings," as his sister puts it, for one person. And if he isn't interested in someone...

He puts a hand on his head, applying pressure. He's giving himself a headache, thinking into this too much. "Oh, you must be tired from all the  _snogging_ ," his sister says, giggling.

"Knock it off, Sayu," he grumbles. "I'm just exhausted because it's been a long day, and I still have some homework to get done." He slides the jacket off of his shoulders, folding it over one arm. "I'm going up to my room, please don't disturb me."

His sister clearly wants more details than he's given her, but she doesn't push the issue farther and he's glad for that. He's not sure what else there is to say. He showed up at a restaurant expecting an awkward date with a classmate with a crush, and instead he'd been stood up. The evening would have been a complete waste if he hadn't been at the same restaurant where L was supposed to be meeting his date. What a strange coincidence.

If, indeed, it was a coincidence. Light frowned into the darkness of his bedroom, not really sure what to make of his own thoughts. What else would it be but a coincidence? An elaborate joke like this would be an annoyance to him, but it seemed like a cruel thing to do to L, like someone had made a vain attempt to embarrass him and then chickened out at the last minute, realizing that humiliating L was virtually impossible. 

Light huffs to himself, letting the thoughts mull over themselves as he prepares himself for bed. He'll get up early in the morning to finish his homework - not that the teacher has collected it even once this semester, but there's always a first time for everything. He lays on his side trying not to think about things, and swallowing the slight guilt he feels over his relief. L didn't have a date, L wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, and that's really all Light can ask for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _well he was just hanging around_   
>  _but he fell in love_   
>  _and he didn't know how_   
>  _but he couldn't get out_   
>  _just hanging around_   
>  _then he fell in love_   
>  _in the middle of summer_

Mello's all for breaking and entering, but this is just a waste of his skill set. They're just lockers, and if the fake date was anything to go by chances were good this won't work either. This is even more simplistic than the last plan they'd concocted, although according to Near this is why it is brilliant. 

Mello also happens to be a pro at skipping classes and not getting caught, so when it's time to change for their next period he has no problem sliding into the empty space where he's left his backpack to retrieve his things and watch this plan fail spectacularly.  _Have more faith, Mello_ , he can hear Near telling him. But all he can see this as is a waste of paper and candy.

Because lockers are assigned by alphabet, Light and L are nowhere near each other when they go to collect their things. Light takes a little longer to open his locker, and it takes him a little longer to reach the thing. Nonetheless, the doors open only a fraction of a second apart, and both boys are flooded with paper hearts and candies. The idea, according to Near, is just to tip them off that they do still have a secret admirer.

But this, like the last plan, seems to backfire. L looks amused, quickly collecting the sweets from the ground before they get crushed underfoot. Light, on the other hand, looks disgusted at the mess it has made. Mello watches as Light kneels down to collect the pieces, dumping them into L's hands when he's finished. And he wishes he'd gotten a picture of the small, warm smile that breaks out over L's face when Light's hands accidentally brush his. At the rate things are moving, Mello will have to bring photographic evidence and put together a slideshow to make the two understand.

But that is all more Matt's area. Maybe, if he buys his friend a new pack or two of cigarettes, he'll be willing to help.

Whatever the case may be, he has to get out of the area and fast. He has no intention of getting caught again, so even though it will make him late to his next class he picks up his bag and leaves in the opposite direction. He doesn't even care what they're going to be talking about, so even if Near wants him to listen in he's not taking that risk. It's one thing to have L confront him about his suspicions, it would be another entirely to listen to L telling Light about them.

Mello takes the walkie talkie from his back pocket and holds it up to his mouth so he can mutter, "All right then, I'm done here. Whatever you next plan is, Near, it had better be good."

* * *

In his classroom, Near doesn't bother to reply to Mello. He smirks at the walkie-talkie, and says softly to himself, "Oh ye of little faith." He leans down to his backpack, sliding his tablet out, and pushes his hair out of the way so he can press the earbuds into his ears. He hadn't wanted to tell Mello about it in case things didn't quite go according to plan, but he'd attached a small camera and recorder onto the paper heart he'd had Mello attach to the inside of L's and Light's lockers. 

He still hasn't told Mello about it, because it's going to be a lot of boring reconnaissance work - something Mello neither cares about, nor has the patience for. And Near doesn't mind doing this on his own. Mello could use a break.

Near smiles fondly as he listens to the older men talk. He doesn't know Light as well as he knows L, but he's talked to him more than Mello has, and he knows that Light is much more introverted than he pretends to be. Around others he pretends to be friendly and outgoing, all the better for his reputation. But L has never cared about social niceties as much; the only person it's ever truly bothered is Mello, because Mello isn't like the rest of them.

Near wraps a lock of hair around his finger, willing himself to concentrate on the image displayed on his tablet instead of on the way his cheeks are heating up. He can learn to live with things he'll never have, since a lot of his life so far has been exactly that. But there's no reason for L to do the same, not when his feelings are requited.

If only he'd stop being so thick and realize what it was he was feeling.

"So are your suspicions about our secret admirers still the same?" Light asks, sound coming in a little muffled hidden behind the paper heart.

Near sees a quick movement of L's shoulders, moving up and down. "At the moment, I don't really care. I'm thankful for the candy." He dumps the armful into his locker, picking through it until he chose one brightly colored lollipop, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth.

The screen is in black and white, but Near thinks Light may very well be blushing as he watches L suck on the candy in his mouth. "You're going to get in trouble with that, you know." L looks to him, cocking his head to one side in a show of questioning. "We're not supposed to have food in the hallways."

"Well," L mutters around the ball of sugar, "I won't tell them about the ever-present bag of chips in your backpack if you won't tell them about the candy." He taps on the door of his locker before closing it, leaving the tablet screen blank as the sound starts to dissipate.

Near removes the earbuds, wrapping the cord around his tablet and shoving it back in his bag. He leans on his desk, frowning at nothing with his head against his hand. He had been hoping to pick something out, but if he's going to be honest he doesn't know what it is he's looking for. Part of him thinks what he wants is some sort of advice, to learn something for himself out of this venture, and then he tells himself not to be so stupid. He's not doing this for himself, or at least he shouldn't be.

Near sighs, looking out the window of his classroom as the teacher begins roll. He knows Mello has physical education in this period, and wonders idly if he'll be able to see his friend in the mass of freshmen making their way from the building to the field.

He thinks he can see Matt walking out, red hair clashing against the grey of the gym uniform. He smiles - there's Mello, next to him, and he cringes in on himself with a pain in his stomach when he sees Matt smack Mello upside the head, and Mello throw an arm around Matt's shoulder. 

It's not a pain he can explain, and even if he could explain it he's sure he wouldn't want to. He should be above this, he thinks to himself in a cruel voice, because everyone expects him to be, and because there's no hope for him. He's never been socially graceful, his friendship with Mello is only tentative and only because they cohabit the same house. He's sure that if Mello still lived with his parents, that he'd hate Near. Sometimes, Near isn't sure Mello _doesn't_ hate him.

"I know it's a lovely day outside, Nate, but please do try to pay attention." Near looks up at the front, and feels the eyes of his classmates on him. This isn't an embarrassment, although he doesn't enjoy the attention either. He nods and pretends to listen, but his mind is still elsewhere.

His mind is on L. He feels a surge of admiration, in a way he doesn't feel for anyone else. It is, he imagines, what having an older brother would be like. And he knows what L would tell him: don't focus on it, that isn't important. And this is where his taste of bitterness comes in, because of course that's easy for L to say. L has Light, and by extension has Misa and whoever else is in their group of friends (Near has never really paid attention; the social world is more Mello's realm; Near's chest cavity feels close to explosion). And L has no real risk of losing that, because he's seen the two of them fight over everything there is to fight about, sometimes coming to physical blows over petty things, and yet Light continues to act as if the two are handcuffed together.

He's fairly certain this emotion is jealousy, and he hates it. Because L is right, and he should be over it, better than that, should have no room in his life for it if he really intends to go on and do the great things that Wammy's House has intended for them all. 

He shouldn't have emotions. Emotions are a downfall and a weakness.

Near's eyes flick to the clock on the wall and leave, focusing themselves back on the teacher. He twitches his thumbs under the desk, wishing not for the first time that he had a toy to play with.

* * *

Light didn't have some sort of major revelation. Those things didn't happen in real-life, or at least not in his. There was no slow motion or angelic singing or whatever else the movies regularly portrayed as happening whenever your emotions decided to show themselves. In fact, he probably wouldn't have noticed his feelings at all if Misa hadn't forced herself between them when she ran into the science lab late. 

It was about...two years ago, now, when Misa still had some sort of bizarre notion that she and Light were meant to be together. He'd realized he'd grown attached to L and everyone knew how close they were as friends. It was a point of irritation with the other foster children L lived with, the blond one even commenting that the two acted as though they were joined at the hip. Light had rolled his eyes, and L had ignored the comment. It had all seemed ridiculous at the time.

Misa was the first person to try and come between the two of them, physically or figuratively, and he'd never known L to be so moody as when Misa was around. He hadn't thought anything of it - she could be annoying as she was vain and often pretended to be stupid in an attempt to gain attention. But when she pushed a stool between the two of them and Light's thoughts turned violent, he stopped to analyze what he was thinking and feeling and the shocking revelation came to him then.

Dear God. He was in  _love_. Of all the things.

Misa clung to him as they began the frog dissection, L looking more disgruntled with Misa hanging on Light's arm. Light wanted to interpret what those looks meant, but he was afraid that if he looked for too long then L would see it written on his face. And he couldn't be entirely sure what it was L felt for him, and he couldn't stand the idea of risking something that couldn't be regained if lost.

So Light decided to keep his feelings hidden. L didn't really express many emotions himself, outside of muted negative feelings and a low-level form of amusement. And in all the time Light had known L - four years, since high school began - he'd never once shown an interest, romantic or sexual (or even really platonic) in other people. His friendship with Light had been the one exception, and that had started as a rivalry. 

Has remained a rivalry, really; on some level, they are always competing, but their science instructor had grown tired of the fistfights she saw breaking out in the hallways, insisting that the two men were too mature and too intelligent to come to blows over such trivial matters. Light agreed, feeling embarrassed, but L stayed as unmoved as ever. She'd paired them together on a science project that required them to spend several evenings together, working on an experiment and writing up the paper. He hadn't expected to become so attached, until L admitted that he enjoyed their time together. "Even when we are arguing, I enjoy your company," he'd said, and a week or so earlier Light might have thought the lack of tone indicated sarcasm.

"Is that so?" he'd asked instead, watching L's nod. "Then why did you keep provoking me into hitting you? Because there's no way you were doing that on accident."

L shrugged, not looking up from the water he was testing. "I didn't think you'd talk to me otherwise."

Light frowned, wondering, did he really appear so cold and aloof to others? It was something he'd been told often as a child and worked to improve upon. "You could have just said you wanted to be friends."

"Could I?" L mused. "I'm not well versed in social matters, though I doubt you could tell from my stunningly large group of friends."

Light had laughed, and hadn't stopped laughing, and people found it strange how the two had gone over night from being at each other's throats to being at each other's sides. It was the closest and realest friendship Light could ever remember having, as so many of his peers only matched him in age. In L he had someone who could really understand him, and challenge him, and so he'd frequently mused to himself before that they would have made quite a pair - had Light been at all interested in L, or L at all interested in anybody for anything.

And then Misa came, sat between the two of them, and Light felt himself become consumed by the tangles of unrequited feelings as the musing became "what a shame L isn't interested in  _me_."

He shouldn't have taken it so personally, as that sort of life wasn't new and Light wasn't a stranger to the concept. Not everyone was interested in romance and there was no harm in that, but there was harm in focusing on avenues that went nowhere and doors with no handles to be opened with. Yet that was exactly the state Light had existed in, continues to exist in, his stomach plummeting and heart jumping and head going fuzzy whenever he focuses too much on his friend and his feelings instead of pressing his desires to the back of the priority list, where they belong.

* * *

Near stands uncomfortably outside the door to L's room, toes curling in his socks. He knows L isn't pleased about the stunt he and Mello had pulled earlier in the week, but as far as he can tell L doesn't believe that Near had been involved. Near feels a little guilty about that, but right now he can use it to his advantage.

But this plan to get L to understand his own feelings is personal, and hence why he hasn't discussed it with Mello. It's risky, and Near's not entirely sure he's ready, but they need to move forward while it's still on everyone's mind. He balls his hand into a fist, steeling himself as he knocks on the door and waits for L to open it for him. 

He only opens it partly, poking his head out to look at his young friend. "Hello, Nate," he greets, door edging open slightly. "What can I help you with?"

Near looks over his shoulder, in part for effect. The other part of him really hopes that Mello isn't watching. "I need to talk to you," he says quietly, eyes not quite meeting his mentor's. "Do you have a few minutes?"

L shrugs, stepping back to let Near in the room. "Of course," he says. "You can close the door behind you, if you want."

Near does, and contemplates flicking the lock so no one can walk in on them. But he also doesn't want to make L suspicious (or more suspicious than he already is), so he leaves it be, standing nervously by the door with his hands wringing around one another. "What is it, Nate?" L asks, sitting himself in the chair in front of his computer. He draws his knees up to his chest like usual, and waves his hand to indicate that Near should sit wherever he likes.

Taking careful steps, Near walks to L's bed and sits, curling in on himself in almost the exact same way as L is sitting. He twirls a strand of hair around one finger, thinking of how to begin.

L starts to frown, hunching in closer as he analyzes the boy in front of him.  _What is he waiting for? Should I be saying something?_   "I don't have all day, Nate," he reminds his younger friend. "I do have homework to finish, as do you, I'm sure."

"My apologies," Near responds. "It's difficult for me to talk about these sorts of things."

L's eyes go a little wide. "Do you mean, your feelings?"

"Yes," Near nods. He looks around the room, for someplace else to stare, and sighs heavily. "I don't know how to...express my feelings."

L's frown deepens. "It doesn't seem to have ever been a problem for you before. Why do you suddenly wish to express them now?"

"Because I believe I may be in love," he responds quickly. Near cringes, invisibly, inwardly, at the way the words taste on his tongue. He can't blame L for the surprise he's showing; it's not like either of them to express something in such severe terms - and 'love' is an awfully strong word, not something to be used lightly. In fact, L doesn't think that he's ever used it before, nor has he ever heard Nate say or express it.

"Are you...sure?" He asks, pressing his pointer finger against his lips. "How can you tell?"

This has been what the reconnaissance work was for. He cannot, of course, simply list off things L is aware of doing. In fact, he should not stick to things L has shown alone, but work off of other research he has done, and what he imagines the feeling to be like. "Well," Near begins, breathing softly. "I feel a little light-headed when h- when we are together. And I experience drastic heart palpitations, similar to what those with panic disorders often describe."

"And you know this isn't a burgeoning panic disorder because...?" L prompts, smirking. He's just teasing Near, and Near wonders if this is him showing discomfort.

He answers the question seriously anyway. "Because I only experience these symptoms when thinking about h- this person." Near frowns at himself, honestly. He has come close to slipping up too often and giving a gender to his imaginary crush. He doesn't want to fabricate too much - L will be able to tell immediately if he lies. "And he -"  _Dammit._  "Is all I think about," Near mutters, pushing himself to finish the rest of his sentence.

"Hmmm," L hums. "That is concerning."

"My throat goes dry," Near mumbles. "It almost feels like it's seizing up, and my tongue goes numb and my stomach starts to hurt."

L looks vaguely alarmed. "I was under the impression that love, or feelings like it," Near bristles in frustration - he's backing away even from the word, from the concept? That's not good. "Was supposed to make the victim feel wonderful, but there is nothing positive about the experiences you are relaying to me."

_Is that the reason he doesn't recognize it in himself? Because he doesn't feel particularly happy?_  Near licks his lips, looking away from L once more. "I feel that too, in spades. He makes me happy, but it is a difficult sort of happy." Near changes his sitting position, so his legs are crossed, finger still twirling in his hair. He tries to keep the speed of his words and actions slow, to hide the anxiety he's feeling. "I'm happy being with him, but not happy because I know I can never...have...him." 

It feels weird to Near, saying something so possessive about another person. He's seen L be possessive of food, Mello of chocolate, has felt possessive of toys - of things he's never had to share, that no one has ever really expected him to share. But people aren't objects to hoarded, and Near knows this. 

L's eyes are a little duller, like he's starting to understand what Near means, what he's getting at. "Why?" he asks, biting on the edge of his thumb.

Near doesn't answer at first, trying to keep his mind and mouth from doing something stupid. Trying to get himself to think about, focus on, something other than Mello. Wishing his stomach would stop hurting, that the sudden depression settling in his chest would alleviate itself. "He doesn't like me," he says, voice almost a whisper.

L stays quiet for a moment. He's not really good at comforting others. He never has been. He's learned to deal with his own emotions by denying their existence, but he has a feeling that's not the kind of advice that Nate needs right now.

He pulls his finger away from his lips, eyes still surveying his young friend. It looks almost like Nate has forgotten what he came in for, as he's no longer looking at L but away, surveying the pattern of his bedsheets. Even the finger that usually curls strands of hair next to his ear has stilled. L shuffles to him, hands in his pockets until he reaches his destination. Not entirely sure of himself, L removes a hand from his pocket and places it on Nate's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry," he says, making sure his diction is clear and his voice loud enough to be heard. He lets his hand slide off of Nate's shoulder, waiting for him to move next.

Near can feel himself blushing, in anger at himself for getting so off-topic. He's not sure if he's managed to achieve his goal, but he knows he needs to leave, go to his own room, have a few minutes to think over what he's said and if he's managed to be too obvious. He looks up at L when he makes contact; he nods and leaves the room when the moment is over. 

* * *

 

When Near finally enters his room, he has every intention of curling into a ball and falling asleep. He feels upset, and he's pushing the reason for his sudden exhaustion and sadness and anger aside. It's ridiculous, he reminds himself. Everything this week has been.

But when he opens the door to his room and walks in, he finds Mello waiting for him on the bed. He flushes, frustrated at the invasion of privacy when he needs it most. "What are you doing in my room, Mello?" he says, voice as close to a snap as it ever gets. He doesn't get angry quite as frequently as Mello does, so he can understand why the other boy looks so taken aback.

"I wanted to talk to you. What we you doing with L just now?" he asks. He looks annoyed, a stack of photos in hand. Near glares in response as he waves the photos around, as if to show them to Near. He drops them on the desk unceremoniously, knocking over one of Near's action figures. "And what the hell are these?" he asks, although he no longer has the photographs in hand. 

Near pushes past Mello to reach his dresser, starting to take out night clothes. "I was doing some background work, trying to get an idea of what the current state of their relationship is like. It's no big deal," he mumbles. He avoids Mello's gaze, but can still feel his eyes glaring at him. It makes him feel warm, uncomfortable.

"Oh, and you didn't think you needed to tell me?" Mello stomps his foot. Near rolls his eyes, out of Mello's line of sight. "I thought we were working together on this."

"We are," Near says. "But I didn't think you would be interested in this. That's why I didn't tell you about the cameras. Besides, if you got caught by L again -"

"Is that what you think? That I'm some sort of fuck-up?"

"I never said that." Near turns around, leveling Mello with a serious look. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Then why do you keep doing things without talking to me first?" he shouts. "The least you could do is talk to me, dammit."

"What even made you think my talking to him was part of the plan?" Near shoots back. "There's no reason I can't talk to L independently of what we're doing." He turns back to his bed, looking around, mind lost in the anger he's feeling. He slams the dresser drawer shut, enjoying the noise and the look of agitation it earns him from Mello.

"So if it didn't have to do with the plan, then what were you talking to him about?" Mello asks.

"It's none of your business," Near replies, a little too quickly. "It doesn't have to do with you."

"What? You can tell L but you can't tell me?" Mello's voice has a hint of something like desperation to it. If Near didn't know him any better, he might think Mello was jealous. 

Or maybe he is jealous. He doesn't talk to L all that often, and when he does he often has issues communicating his point, more caught up in emotions than either Near or L could ever really relate to.

"Why do you even want to know?" Near asks. "It wasn't like we were talking about you."

"Because I thought we were getting along for once." Mello's hands are in fists at his sides, his face bright red and his teeth grinding. "If you have an issue why can't you just talk to me about it? God dammit!" 

Near can point out that Mello hadn't ever cared before, hadn't ever really showed an interest in Near or his life or his feelings. It's true they've been getting along - although Near has never deemed Mello an enemy, as Mello had always seemed to view Near. But Near doesn't feel like arguing the point. It would be fuitle; Mello's angry because it's the only emotion Mello really knows how to express, and in a way Near feels sympathy for him. 

Nonetheless, he's developing a splitting headache, and he needs the fighting to stop. It's more than he can deal with right now. He knows shock has its value, and he reacts on an impulse of the quickest way he can think to get Mello to stop talking: he turns on the balls of his feet and marches toward Mello, presses his hands to Mello's cheeks and drags his face down to kiss him.

Mello's eyes are wide with surprise, brain racing as Near presses their lips together. He doesn't resume his talking when Near pulls back, face tinted pink, like he's always thought he would if he were to ever be in a situation as unbelievable as the one he's just experienced. He only continues staring, mouth slightly ajar as Near mutters, "I'm going to take a shower," and leaves him standing, dumbstruck, in the middle of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to tea for beta-ing and aiiichichi w/ ideas as to where to go next.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i miss you most when i try to act like i don't care_   
>  _about the warm hands,_   
>  _i think that we're best friends_

"I have come to the conclusion that Nate is in love with Mihael." There's no introduction, no morning greeting. L simply walks up to Light, where he is checking his hair in the mirror of his locker, and announces this.

It's odd to Light, how he manages to sound so loud and official despite being slouched in his usual posture. People who don't know L often ask Light if his friend is depressed. 'Not as far as I can tell' is his usual answer, because he simply can't imagine it. 

Light shakes his head at his reflection and smirks. "Wow, you're finally noticing?" 

L looks surprised. "You knew?"

"Well," Light roots through his bag, dragging out a heavy textbook and shoving it into his locker. "He's kind of obvious about it, don't you think?" Light slams his locker door, slipping the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. He extends an arm out, indicating that he'll walk L to his locker now.

L doesn't move, staring, unblinking, at his friend. Light can feel himself sweating under L's gaze, cheeks reddening as he tries to keep his mind from wandering.  _What is he looking at?_  L turns quickly, advancing to his own locker and Light breathes a sigh of relief, following him. "I don't see how it's obvious," L finally answers. 

Light sighs loudly, dramatically, as L opens his locker. L turns to look at Light, rolling his eyes at his friend's reaction. "Have you seen the way Nate looks at Mihael? Normally his stare is sort of blank - unreadable and analytical, like yours. But when he looks at Mihael...there's something just different about the way his eyes look. They're a little wider, a little more intense and interested." Light crosses his arms, leaning against the row of lockers next to where his friend is standing. "Nate's posture changes too, like he's leaning into Mihael."

"Really?" L asks. He's staring into the abyss of his locker, thinking. He turns his head to look at Light, arms still crossed, eyes closed. L moves to stand closer to his face. "Light?"

Light flinches, realizing L is standing right next to him. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks again, and feels annoyed.  _Damn L, quit teasing me_. "Yes?" is all he asks, turning his head minutely to his friend.

"Have you ever been in love?" 

Oh, no, Light really can't hide his reaction now. He feels like he's being strangled in warmth, his friend's body heat seeping into him from where he stands. He can smell the soft, soapy scent of the conditioner L uses, and his heart starts beating faster, closer to his throat than his lungs. "N-no," he says, teeth pushed together to keep his mouth from saying something he doesn't want to admit.

L frowns at him, looking genuinely disappointed. "You're bluffing," he mumbles, and pulls back a little. He looks...hurt. Hurt that Light would lie to him, and despite himself Light feels a little guilty.

"Okay," he groans, "So, I am -"

"Am?" L asks. His eyes have brightened, widened a little. He looks intrigued, and it's making Light even more uncomfortable. 

"Have been!" he corrects, voice a little squeaky. "I meant have been. Not am. I have been." He plasters a hand over his face, hoping to wipe off the embarrassment he's feeling. "Look, it's a deeply personal matter."

"I thought we were friends," L says, voice oddly whiny. 

"Alright," Light says, feeling agitated. "Have you ever been in love, L?"

"Yes," L says, and Light feels the color drain straight from his face.  _Wait, what?_  Now he can understand L's indignation - he feels he's missed something important about his friend, but his annoyance at the lack of information shared does nothing to mask the bleak discomfort settling in his stomach that makes him feel nauseated, or the way his heart is sinking and swallowing his breath whole. "Do not look so surprised, Light, it has only ever happened once."

"So- so," Light stutters, uncharacteristically, stunned by the admission. "You - you never told me about this."

L shrugs. "It's unimportant."

"Hold on a second, what's the difference between your experiences and mine?"

And now it's L's turn to be engulfed in embarrassment and anger. He slams his locker, turning his back on Light and grumbles, "It just is," before storming off down the hallway. But not before Light got a glimpse of the red tint to his cheeks and neck, wondering what it was that caused his friend so much ire.

* * *

Mello stays frozen in his place for several minutes after the two have left. He'd only wanted the tablet to feel more apart of things, and Near had easily agreed after their fight.

Mello had been frozen last night too, unsure how to comprehend the fact that Near had just kissed him. And he was still standing in Near's room in shock when he'd returned, chest bare and a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn't remember looking at Near - just that Near had told him the tablet was his for the next day and handed it to him before guiding him out of his room.

He'd thought he must have hallucinated that fight and that - that reaction, but this...

Mello blushes furiously as he removes the earbuds from his ears, mind still trying to process what he's just heard.  _Near is...in love with me? No. No, that's not possible. Near doesn't experience emotions, right? I mean, if he did have feelings for someone, it would be L, not me. Near thinks I'm an idiot._

_Right?_

"Mihael, please put your tablet away," the teacher speaks up. Mello looks at her, eyes a little unfocused. "We're about to begin class," she says, as if she's talking to a child. As if she's talking to someone being dense on purpose. As if she's speaking to someone who hasn't just had the biggest revelation of the year thrown on his shoulders - that Near not only has feelings, but has feelings for him. He blinks at her, blankly, before wrapping the cord of the earbuds around the body of the electronic, shoving it hastily back into his bag.

As he turns to put the tablet away, he sees Near crouching down, grabbing something from his small locker. Near looks up, nods at him with a strange smile. Mello forgets his manners, blushing and looking in the opposite direction.

This is going to be a long day.

* * *

L is glad that his first class of the day is not one he shares with Light. Normally, this fact is an irritation; he doesn't care much for most of his classmates, and even the ones who consider him friends (like Matsuda and, oddly, Misa) grate on his nerves with their idle chatter about things he could not care less about. He often finds himself reading a book during class, and the teacher has long since past calling him out for it. He already knows and understands the material being taught.

Today, however, he does not drag out the book he's brought with him to keep himself entertained, instead pulling a notebook from his bag with an accompanying pen, uncapping the writing utensil and beginning to draw without putting much thought in it. He's still angry at Light's perseverance, or perhaps more at himself for lying in the first place. He supposes it was just something he said on impulse. It was tiring to have your humanity so frequently questioned, and when love was the topic humanity was always tied into it. As if there had not been millions of perfectly happy, successful people who never dabbled in romance. Or perhaps it was his childishness getting in the way; his answer, maybe just him figuratively sticking his tongue out to say  _'you don't know me as well as you thought you did.'_  It was a bad trait he carried, after all, this petulance.

But the cold pit in his stomach tells him there is more to it than that, than either of those petty reasons. Logically speaking, he has nothing to prove to Light. The competitions between them are friendlier now, and he cherishes that friendship they have. And Light has never before shown issue or disbelief toward L's disinterest in romance, even fending off the few admirers he had managed to gain somewhere along the line. So no, his mind tells him, his reaction was not born of some insecure need to prove himself humane or to challenge Light when there was no real opposition to be had.

Or, not in the most obvious of ways.  _You're jealous_ , his mind tells him,  _That Light has been in love with someone, who is most definitely not you_.

_That's absurd_ , he tells himself.  _I'm not jealous. To say that I am jealous would be to imply that I have feelings for Light Yagami_. He scratches down the answer to a question the teacher has just asked, so he knows what to say if she - for some odd reason - decides to call on him.

_But don't you?_  His brain supplies.  _You were angry back when he first started dating Misa as well._

_He was never dating Misa_ , he retorts the the ghost of an argument in his brain.  _She was under the mistaken impression that he had an interest in her, but he never did and never will._

_And don't pretend that you weren't hoping that the reason was because he has feelings for you_ , his brain counterattacks.  _It might not have been at first sight, but you have fallen in love with him, somewhere along the line_.

_What rubbish_ , L thinks.  _There are plenty of people who exist outside the realm of romance, and I am one of them. I have never felt such a way about any person, and I am not about to start now._

_You don't get to choose who you fall in love with or when. And maybe it is not so much that you don't experience that form of attraction, as you have never someone who sparks those desires in you - or haven't, until you met Light._  L twirls the pen between his fingers as he listens to the argument he's building up against himself.  _And there is nothing wrong with experiencing these things either. It does not mean you have been lying to yourself or that your past has been a lie. Life, romance, sexuality, gender - everything is fluid, you know this._

_Don't deny something of yourself simply because it is unfamiliar. Think about it: you stare at his lips quite often when he's speaking; you even did so back in the hallway. Don't you think about kissing him?_

L stills his hands, letting his eyes go unfocused as his mind brings an image of Light to mind. He looks at the picture of Light he has created, and finds himself wondering things he's never paid attention to before, or never given credence to before. That he wonders what the skin of Light's cheeks feel like, the sensation the strands of hair might bring to life on his fingertips if he ever tried touching them. He stares at the eyes, trying to name the colors he sees in them. His thoughts move to Light's lips, and for a second he imagines pressing his against them.

He jerks back in his seat, flush overcoming his neck. Misa, seated next to him, stares at him, a look of concern overwhelming her face. "Are you okay, L?" she asks. "You look kind of sick - here, let me feel your forehead." 

He doesn't move as Misa's hand presses against his head, smirking softly at himself when she wipes the hand off on her skirt. "Ugh, you're all sweaty," she says, nose scrunched. "You should really go and see the nurse, I think you've caught something."

"Yes, perhaps," he mumbles, and he stands for the hall pass. He does think he's caught something, but he's fairly certain it's not something Misa can detect.

Or at least, he hopes it isn't.

* * *

Light taps his pencil against the wood of his desk and chews, unusually for him, on his lips. By all accounts he should be focusing on what the teacher is saying; entrance exams are coming up after all, and he needs to be prepared if he wants to get in to university. But his mind is still fogged, too concerned with L and what happened in the hallway to really focus on anything else. 

Specifically, he's stuck on the idea that L is or has been in love with someone. And he's fairly certain that whoever this someone is, it isn't him.

He wants to say it doesn't matter at all. That he's mature, that this isn't a blow to his ego when what it really is, is far more crushing than the idea that L just couldn't experience romantic feelings at all. Things weren't such a problem then, when he could curl his feelings for his friend into a ball and convince himself that he was happy with a platonic relationship alone. Because on some level, he was; having L as a friend was a far sight better than not having L in his life at all. And with this assurance that L simply wasn't interested in love or sex or romance, there would be no need to admit his feelings. He could go on existing with L as his companion, platonically as possible, and maybe one day he would meet someone else that made him feel the same way, or at least similar, and he could have whoever that person was for a lover, and L as a friend.

It may not be ideal, but life isn't perfect. And until today, Light has been ready to accept this as an inevitable part of his future.

_It has only ever happened once_. The words keep ringing in his head even as he tries to push them away and focus on the equations in front of him. There's something very final about those words.

It shouldn't change things and logically speaking, it doesn't. L has no intention of being in love again. He's still unmovable, still uninterested.

But the idea that it's happened before is a small window of hope, and one that Light knows he shouldn't let himself think about. It's not going to happen, and he keeps telling himself this. Just because it's happened before doesn't mean Light will somehow magically be the time it happens again. If L was going to fall in love with Light, it would have happened already, and Light prides himself on being a good reader of others (although, admittedly, he rarely understands L). He would have been able to see the difference, the change, if L had ever even entertained a crush on him.

...Right?

He knows the doubt isn't healthy and he shouldn't let it roam free. But he's a sucker, a glutton for pain and, he guesses, an idealist on some level. So he lets himself be taken in by his own wishes and fantasies, the game of pretend in his mind where L inexplicably finds himself wildly attracted to and in love with Light, so that they can be together and happy.

He huffs at himself and crosses his arms.  _We're more likely to end up trying to kill each other_ , he thinks bitterly. 

And because alternate universes are a thing he can't outright deny for lack of proof one way or the other, he thinks that somewhere, they already have.

It's a possibility he tries not to think about. It causes him panic attacks that are, in the long run, probably more damaging to his psyche and social capabilities than number of times he catches himself thinking, almost obsessively, about his best friend. And those thoughts - those thoughts usually start as a way for him to try to stop being in love - because dammit, he can't really deny it anymore, there's no real point to it anyhow - with L. It's a list, almost always, at the beginning, of things L does that drive him crazy. The way he chews on his fingernails, refuses to sit properly in seats, frequently walks around without shoes on, indulges in far too many sweets, hardly sleeps, and seems to enjoy starting arguments with people. And then, the list devolves into remembering with some trepidation that he blushes when L starts biting his thumb, that he's more than once imagined L sitting in his lap, that he's considered reaching out to touch L's feet, that he imagines what L's lips must taste like, that he very well could and very much wants to hold L in bed (even if he still won't sleep), and that their arguments are usually for fun and nearly always laced with a tension in the air that he can't describe but that leaves his heart pounding hard in his chest.

The teacher calls on him to answer a question and he does, feeling his neck flaring in embarrassment. He hopes no one can see it, or that no one attributes it to anything other than his inane insistence to wear long-sleeves regardless of the temperature outside. Once he's calmly spoken the answer, he turns his head to glance out of the classroom's door.

He feels his heart plummet and stomach turn. L is shuffling down the hallway with Misa at his side, looking dazed. Misa's talking animatedly, hands bouncing around and Light's heart constricts when he sees her put a hand on L's shoulder and lean in to ask him a question.

_He's not...in love with Misa, is he?_

_No, no, there's no way she's his type. All that vanity and acting like an idiot - there's no way he'd fall for that. Besides, he clearly didn't like her back when she used to be in classes with the both of us. He always seemed so grumpy around her..._

_But maybe that's because she and I were dating, and he couldn't have her? He seems happier now that we're broken up -_

_No, he's happier now because she used to be so snippy to him. She calmed down a lot after they had that English class together and had to work on that project -_

_But that's how I fell in love with him. Maybe he fell in love with her over a project?_

He watches as L frowns and politely moves Misa's hand from his body. Misa frowns and her eyes shift - then, excitedly, she waves to Light. He throws her a small smile in return, but it's not her waving that's doing it.  _Hm. He didn't want her touching him. Definitely not her he's got a thing for, then._

Light looks down at the piece of notebook paper he's lodged under his elbow. There are hardly any notes on it - a few answers, hastily written out to make him seem productive. The rest of the notes are on a subject he really shouldn't be focusing on: letters as abbreviations for people, possible candidates that L could have been talking about.

_But wait, I guess that phrase was sort of past-tense. Maybe it's someone I don't even know. Maybe it's over now. But does that make things better, or worse?_

Light sighs to himself and shifts his eyes back up to the teacher. He can pretend, at least, to be paying attention, even has he finds himself sketching his friend on the remaining blank space of the paper.

* * *

"You look like you're about to pass out," Misa comments. She presses a hand to L's upper arm, leaning closer to him. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Light in the classroom. She stops L and waits until Light is watching them, to ask him, "Are you sure you can make it to the nurse's office?" She's smiling at him, nicely, and can feel Light watching them.

L frowns at her. "I believe I will be fine," he says, and pushes her hand from his shoulder. He knows that affection is just her personality. It's how she shows people she cares about them. But L has never been particularly good when it comes to touching or being touched. He's learned to deal with it when it comes to Mihael throwing his arms around his stomach for a hug, or having Nate tugging on his sleeve or wrist to get attention. But the only person he's ever really desired to touch is -

He feels the blood draining from his face and Misa grabs his shoulders. Does he look like he might be fainting? He certainly feels faint, color flowing back to his cheeks with a vengeance as he thinks about the times he's thought Light might touch him, hug him, caress his cheek and he's thought that he really, really wouldn't mind it. And now he can almost feel it with the heat encompassing his shoulders, from mortification, from anxiety and he tunes out of reality for a moment, imagining Light embracing him and holding him tightly.

"Stay right here!" he can hear Misa saying through the haze in his mind. "I'll go and get the nurse. Just - don't move!"

He wants to say that he's not going to move, and he doesn't think he can, but he can't concentrate on getting the sounds to leave his throat. His mind is still wandering, and in his head Light is touching his face tenderly and asking him if he's okay.

Wait. Oh god. That's not just an image L is creating. Light has actually left his classroom and is kneeling in front of him where he is slumped on the ground, back against the lockers. Light's fingers feel like silk against his cheeks where they are brushing his hair out of his face. "You're burning up," he says softly, and L can only imagine what his face looks like as sweat beads on the back of his neck, heart skittering as Light holds his head up to try and look in his eyes. Which, he knows, are unfocused, because their faces are too close to each other and he feels like he can't breathe.

"What are you, giving him the kiss of life? Back up and give him some room, Light," Misa says, and L's eyes snap back to attention to Misa, hands on her hips and lips thin as she glares at Light.

Light, who he's now too embarrassed to look at, thinks (or maybe that's _hopes_ ) he's doing a good job of covering the blush and the choke he feels at Misa's words. "You can't just dump him here in the hallway, Misa," he snaps. "What if he gets sick? What if he passes out?" His hands aren't on L's face anymore, but they are on his collar bone, moving out to his shoulders. 

Misa smiles internally.  _Aww, he really cares. He should show it more often_. "Well he hasn't, has he?" she asks, rolling her eyes. It's a rhetorical question - obviously, she'd be able to see if he had. "I just left to get the nurse. I didn't want him to die on the way there." She crosses her arms and leans to one side, so the nurse is in full view.

For once, L is actually embarrassed. He's never collapsed in school before and only been sent home with a fever once or twice.

The nurse has no qualms about dragging Light out of the way before bending down to get a good look at L. She frowns at him, checking his eyes and his temperature, nose wrinkling at the sweat forming on his forehead. "Do you feel nauseous at all?" she asks, and L nods slowly, tersely, wishing passing classmates would stop staring at him. "Well," the nurse continues, "You don't have a fever, but I don't want to risk you getting sick in the middle of class. Can you move?" 

"Uh..." He's not sure if it's a product of actual sickness or he's withdrawing from the glares of onlookers.

Light, to the nurse's left, offers his hand for L to take, and instead of answering her question L takes hold of Light's hand and lets his friend pull him up. "Our lockers aren't far from here," Light tells the nurse, charming smile in place. "I can walk him there, and Miss Amane can go back to class."

Misa snorts, but doesn't argue, turning and back the direction she'd led L from initially. The nurse looks between Light and L, unsure of their intentions. It occurs to Light that people often fake illnesses to get out of class, and that this must be what the nurse thinks they're doing. L can't really think about much, eyes trained to the floor so he doesn't stare at Light's hand, still holding his.

"Don't worry about it," the teacher calls, head poking out of the classroom. "They're both at the top of their class. Neck and neck, really." _Neck and neck. Necking. Huh._ "They're not the type to break into lockers or make out in the hallways."

Light has to exhibit some considerable self-control to keep from squeezing his hand into a fist on impulse, shocked and more than a little flustered at the teacher's suggestion. He doesn't even realize until then that he's still holding L's hand, or that their fingers are laced together. He clenches his jaw hoping to kill the blush before it shows on his cheeks, and drops L's hand. He looks from his friend, eyes glued to the tile below, concentrated, to the nurse, still frowning, and smiles politely again. "Alright," she says, although it's more like a sigh. "I assume you both have cell phones. One of you call his -" she jerks her head at L - "Parents."

"Yes ma'am," Light says, pressing a hand to the small of L's back and guiding him away, too desperate to leave the nurse and her scrutinizing stare and the watchful eye of nosey classmates behind to bother correcting her assumption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this thing took so long to update! I really don't like to post things until they're perfect, or at least as close to it as I can manage.
> 
> So I wound up making a mix for this because I wasn't sure how else to proceed. I might wind up editing it later on but...maybe not. Link [here](http://8tracks.com/polly-justice/parent-trapping-and-your-unlucky-childhood-friend).
> 
> (What does necking even mean? How are necks even involved? Show me a neck! That's not a neck.)


End file.
